


at least, now, I have you here with me (nothing else matters)

by for_within_the_hollow_crown



Series: drift back to me (I’ll do the same) [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (this is fluff), F/M, written for Fitzsimmonsforlife's fluff vs angst contest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 11:25:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11312400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_within_the_hollow_crown/pseuds/for_within_the_hollow_crown
Summary: "See you at supper. Come along, Tiaa!"He raised his hand in farewell and Jemma turned around. Some strains of hair had escaped her hairstyles and danced around her face in the afternoon wind, as she stood there with the most radiant smile on her face and the crumpled and teared letter still in her hand, looking back at him and nodding. It felt, as they looked at each other, as if he had never loved her more than in that moment and that perhaps he should run after her and tell her about his feelings with the same easiness he had read the letter with.And wouldn't it be great, he thought, if only it could be like this always? Always together, always happy, always alone, always in love.





	at least, now, I have you here with me (nothing else matters)

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd.

[Yorkshire 1911]

 

Behind him stood the abbey. Majestic and imposing, it seemed to watch over him as Fitz made his way through the gardens, back to his office. The towers and the spires towered themselves against the sky that was slowly starting to cloud - dark patches of grey slowly covering the space that had, until the early afternoon, been a sea of light blue; and the sun, that still shone on one side, created a game of shadows and lights that made the outline of the building appear golden in the afternoon light. A million bricks that might crumble, gutters and pipes that might block and leak, and stone that might crack with frost: that was the house. And yet, despite the costs and the constant effort put in its maintenance, there was nothing but love and fascination on Lord Simmons' side for it had been his family's home for centuries; those ancient brick walls had stood unaltered through history, had witnessed it, and carried both stories and secrets within them.

Not even a year ago, Jemma's father had told him that the house and the estate were his third parent and third child; that he had given his life to it and hoped that his son Tom would do so too, that he claimed no career beyond the nurture of the house and the land, and that he hoped to die there just like he was born there. And while Fitz agreed only partly, he was too much of an outside to fully understand; no matter how close he was to the family and how welcome he was by them, the abbey couldn't and would never be his home. Yet it wasn't really important, for what mattered was that it was a safe space, a happy place, he and his mother had ended up after the misery caused by his own father had finally come to an end. Moving, being welcomed as an equal despite the lack of everything, had been the beginning of a golden age and the improvement from before caused the memory to be romanticized and spoiled. Perhaps, one day, soon, he'd look back at the past ten years only to realize that it had not all been sunshine and that the sense of devotion and owing were completely misplaced. But until the arrival of such a day, if such a day would ever come, he'd make the most of the situation.

No, he didn't want to give his life to the management of the land and the job, that had been offered to him with such promptness and kindness, was nothing but a temporary solution that would one day come to an end. There were many things keeping him there, as he had told Jemma the previous summer, but none of them would last forever. He couldn't fool himself in saying that Jemma was not the main reason of him having accepted the job, for this way their friendship could last a little while longer and the romantic aspect of it having time to unfold in all easiness; but that too would end as soon as she'd go to university and then what? He couldn't tell, for it was too early to speak about a future, no matter where feelings lay. There were dreams and hopes and an overall inability to speak them out loud, and Jemma herself had made it more than clear that until the end of her academic career she wouldn't even start to think about a future.

If Jemma left, of which he was sure, then he would start to look for some new position too or at least start to think about what he would have liked to do with his life. Anything but working with Pratt, of this much he was sure; boredom had already started to settle in, and while he enjoyed working with Jemma's brother Tom quite a lot, Pratt was a tedious man who spent his days talking about change without ever acting upon his words.

"Fitz! Just the person I was looking for." Jemma's voiced distracted him from his thoughts, and he fastened his pace only to be met halfway by Tiaa, Lord Simmons' Labrador, running towards him - barking and waggling his tail. Fitz kneeled down and stroke her fur, before reaching Jemma on the bench next to the old oak tree.

"What are you doing here?"

"Nothing much, I have an enquiry from one of the farms. I'm going back to the office to retrieve some things and then call it a day."

"Ah. Would you mind keeping me some company? Or, even better, I could walk with you."

"Won't they worry?"

"I very much doubt that. I've told Charles that I'd walk Tiaa, and there's no one at home," Jemma paused, waiting for him to take place beside her. "I'm rather left to my own company now that Daisy has moved to London to work for _The Sketch._ It's rather boring at times, not knowing what to do with one's life."

"How is she doing?"

"Rather well, from what I've heard. And papa has stopped seeing red at the mere thought of his unmarried niece living alone in London and working for a newspaper. But she's in good hands, and he knows that as much as everybody else. She's coming back tonight, in fact, I was looking for you so as to invite you to dinner. Will's coming along with Edith and Lavinia, and Daisy and Tom will of course be there too."

"Lavinia and Edith?"

"Will's sisters. Lavinia is the sweetest spirit you'll ever meet, I'm sure you'd like her. It's going to be quite the party and it would be jolly well fine to have you there too; and if you're worrying about the occasion being fancy, then you must know that none of us is very fastidious in doing things properly," she stopped and looked at him. "Unless you already have plans."

"Mother is working late, and who am I to say no to the chance of seeing everyone again?"

"It's settled then."

Fitz nodded and Jemma took his hand, the hesitance of the days gone by completely gone. Contrary to the previous summer, holding hands no longer was such a big issue. It could go unnoticed and could be dismissed, yet the feelings of their palms touching and their entwined fingers provided both a sense and comfort and reassurance of the other beside them, of knowing that they were somewhere between friendship and love and that their relationship shaped itself every day, became more neat and defined with every action and every word, as seconds were ticked away.

"Papa said you're doing well with Pratt, do you like it?"

"Most of the time. I certainly don't want to do it for the rest of my life," he explained.

"Of course not."

"I'm not really sure what I want to do, but I'm clever in my own way and I will do something of myself," he paused, the words _I promise_  on the tip of his tongue, ready to come out. And yet it wasn't a promise to her -  Jemma, he was sure, would still like him not matter if he kept working as estate agent or not - more to himself, or perhaps the ghost of his former self, as reassurance that he was neither useless nor stupid and would prove the memory of his father wrong. "Besides, why leave now when I've got something magnificent right here?"

She turned towards him, hand on his shoulder, smiling.

"Well, back at the office really. A map of the land your family owns, it's very detailed and neat with all the cottages and farms marked on it," he joked.

Jemma snorted, leaning her head on his chest as her shoulders went up and down due to the laughter. He soon joined her, and every time their gazes met a new burst of laughter would erupt from their throats and they'd find themselves back at the beginning.

She kissed his cheek, lips lingering on his skin for a moment longer, and then let go of his hand, got up, and said. "Care for a walk? Tiaa and I will accompany you back to the office before walking home. And then we'll see each other at supper."

"Sounds like a plan."

They walked in silence, with the young dog running in front of them. Tiaa went back and forth, deviating from the pebbled pathway every now and then, going to smell at flowers and chasing insects, all of it under Fitz and Jemma's attentive gaze. Their fingers touched every time their hands bumped into each other and yet, no _I'm sorry-s_ ever followed; the contact never reached its full potential and remained nothing more than lingering and brief, but soon lost all its causality: done on purpose, every touch was followed by a glance and a teasing half-raised smile, private and constricted and only for the other to see.

Jemma looked nervous, her movements rigid and mechanical had lost all the easiness of before, and she seemed too lost in her own thoughts to speak. In deep concentration, with her brows furrowed, she soon started to nervously fidget with her fingers, as if she had words blocked at the back of her throat that could come out in infinite ways yet she found herself incapable of finding just one.

"A letter arrived this morning. From Oxford," she spoke at last, the words succeeding each other quickly and in a constant flow, left her breathless by the time she reached the last syllable.

"What does it say?"

"I wouldn't know, for I have yet to find the courage to open it. I was sitting at breakfast, envelope in one hand and knife in the other, but couldn't. It's been going on for hours and then I thought that if I'd go outside with Tiaa, then-" she paused and took a deep breath. "I know what it's going to say."

"Shall I open it?"

She nodded and took the folded paper out of her pocket, handing it to him with trembling hands. The symbol of Oxford's university was printed in the top left corner, Jemma's name address on the opposite side and beneath it had been written down by hand - the outline of the letters a little smudged and the ink faded away to a light grey where the envelope had been folded by Jemma.

"Maybe I'll take it better if it comes from you," she explained to him. "And no matter what, you're the first person I wanted to know anyway."

Incredibly pale and nervous, Jemma looked sick, all the confidence displayed in the past was now gone. It wasn't much like her, but then again she had wanted to get into Oxford ever since he could remember, and one way or the other, the content of the letter would somehow shape her future. It was a free fall in which Jemma had no certainties and no hope, not after having taken the potty test (as she herself had renamed it) and having completely missed a section of it.

"Ready?" Fitz asked, taking out the letter and opening it under Jemma's attentive eyes, in which, despite all the desperation, some hope still lingered on and shone bright.

"Jemma-"

"I knew it-" she replied with broken voice.

"You got in."

She snatched the sheet of paper form his hands with such a violence that the sides ripped off with a dead sound, leaving him with oddments of white paper in his hand. He watched her read through the short message all over again, eyes moving from one end of the paper to the other,  in a never ending cycle of disbelief and lack of realisation.

"There must have been an accident," she concluded.

"What makes you think it was an accident?"

"Surely it must be. I flunked the Latin, Fitz, in its entirety."

"Well, it does say that you must work on it," he joked.

Jemma looked at him, laughter bubbling up at the back of her throat and coming out with a crystal clear sound, freely and liberating. It was as if she had been freed of a burden and, Fitz reckoned, in some ways it was like that - months of agony fading away more quickly than her disbelief. She looked as if she felt like having the world at her feet, an entire future stretched ahead of her and looking like infinity; it was settled and there was no way back. What would she say if she was capable of formulating a coherent thought in the midst of such happiness and elation? That she was one compromise away from entering Oxford. He didn't dare to imagine what that would be.

"I got it," she whispered, her voice lingering on each syllable as if she was trying to taste them and better grasp the realness of it all by having each sound perfectly articulated. "I got into Oxford."

At last, realisation washed over her and she let out a squeal of delight, jumping on her spot, while Tiaa started to bark and run around them both - her waggling tail hitting both their legs as she passed close to them. Fitz smiled, the corners of his mouth twitching and raising quickly, Jemma's own happiness and enthusiasm too contagious."

"It feels so strange," she said as she threw her arms around him, making them both lose balance for a couple of seconds. "To have one's dreams come true."

"Congratulations, Jemma."

Still laughing she cupped his cheeks, the palms of her hand fresh on his skin, and kissed him - smiling against his lips for a moment and then another, before running the tip of her tongue on his lips. He opened his mouth and their tongues touched, moist and slippery muscle against moist and slippery muscle - and they stood there, his arms around her waist and her hands moving to his neck, losing themselves in the sensation of just kissing, until Tiaa barked again asking for attention.

Foreheads touching, breaths mixing, and a string of saliva that went from his mouth to hers; they both looked radiant. "See you at supper then," Fitz said.

"See you at supper. Come along, Tiaa!"

He raised his hand in farewell and Jemma turned around. Some strains of hair had escaped her hairstyles and danced around her face in the afternoon wind, as she stood there with the most radiant smile on her face and the crumpled and teared letter still in her hand, looking back at him and nodding. It felt, as they looked at each other, as if he had never loved her more than in that moment and that perhaps he should run after her and tell her about his feelings with the same easiness he had read the letter with.

And wouldn't it be great, he thought, if only it could be like this always? Always together, always happy, always alone, always in love.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are appreciated.


End file.
